Black-Beak
by Bhrrrrr
Summary: Laura moves to Portland for adventure. She finds trouble - and a Grimm. Is he just a threat to her fellow wesen, or a potential ally?
1. Swamp-skull and Pink-nose

1\. Swamp-skull and Pink-nose

"Your coffee."

"Thank you." The cashier was cute but looked a bit stressed. I didn't blame him for it, it was only natural and I would have been stressed too if I had his job. I paid for my mug and found an empty seat by a window where I could sit. McDonalds was the only place I could find that served coffee in the evening so I'd decided to endure the screaming kids to get some caffeine into my system. The lighting was annoyingly bright and the heavy fumes from the fryers did not help to make me feel comfortable. I took a sip from my mug and wondered how people could call that liquid coffee when it was this tasteless. I missed the stronger stuff back in Sweden and wondered if I would have to make all my coffee myself from now on.

My first day in Portland had been surprisingly uneventful. I had so far gone off the plane, checked into my hotel, investigated some graffiti I had found in an alley and written a page for my latest novel. I had shared my lunch with a homeless man who'd been preaching about death (he had appeared intelligent but rather manic), longingly stared through the window of a jewelers shop but not dared to enter (my fingers were itchy and I didn't want to get arrested without doing something that was worth it) and read about upcoming events in town. The Asian circus three days from now sounded tempting, there ought to be at least some wesen there I could… speak to. Hopefully no one dangerous though, I could use a soft start.

I had heard Oregon was supposed to inhabit more wesen than usual. Maybe that had contributed to Portland's slogan "Keep Portland weird", but so far I had not seen anyone woge since I left Stockholm and I was beginning to worry that I had been misinformed.

Wow, I thought, if someone read my mind right now I would sound really suspicious. They could even assume I was a Grimm. Normal wesen don't think like that. Someone would perhaps freak out. That'd be embarrassing. And I would probably get myself killed. That'd be bad for my reputation. I had read Orwell's "1984" though, so I knew about the negative effects of the "thought crime"-thing and decided to ignore my concern let myself think whatever I wanted.

I started to plan out what I should do next now that I was becoming more relaxed in my new home. Most people would probably need at least a month to get their affairs straight when moving to another country as unprepared as I was, but then most people weren't as adaptable as me. I wondered if I could break a record of some sort if I felt like I'd always lived in Portland when I woke up tomorrow. Of course, for that to happen I'd have to work immediatly.

I knew little about my new surroundings and needed to track down potential threats and get them under control as soon as possible. It was required if I was to succeed in my life and the sooner I started to clean up the mess the better. It would be a first option but perhaps risky to seek help among my own kind. Some could be willing to teach me valuable lessons obout this city but others could see me as a rival and dump my body in a river to get rid of me after letting someone chew on my neck. I should probably keep a low profile when seeking information if I wanted to stay alive.

I looked out in the street while finishing my "coffee". It was getting rather dark and the stream of people walking in and out of McDonalds was drying up. Out in the street the traffic flowed smoother and the shadier kind blended out among the regular late shoppers, partygoers and tourists. Two people that caught my eye met on the other side of the road and exchanged a few words. I monitored them with moderate interest. The bigger of the two, a bald and heavily tattooed man seemed to irritate the smaller one, a skinny-looking woman to the point where she turned away from him and almost left. Before she changed her mind and turned back I saw her face change. This intrigued me. She was a Reinigen. That would do just fine. Not that I was overly fond of their kind, but Reinigen often had quite a fighter spirit that could come in use. This one who didn't look too happy with her situation could be interested in getting some help with her... friend? Maybe I could get her to help me if I helped her. People were usually grateful to nice strangers.

I silently complained about Americas apparent lack of interest for recycling when I threw away my paper mug before exiting out into the street. The woman looked human again and the pair continued their argument. They seemed to be breaking up though as I persued them while trying not to get hit by a car. I concentrated to hear what they were talking about.

"I'm telling you again, if you don't like the price I won't sell anything. I'm the only one you know who sells this stuff so you better accept it", the man said.

"Fuck off", the woman spat out. Her voice was rather hoarse, but by the look of her it wasn't only cigaretts that had put it in that state. Good. Junkies were easier to deal with than other people, you always knew something they wanted. I was just a few meters from them now, ready to break up their fight and take all the credit for saving the woman. The man was nearly two meters tall and wide enough to pass for a Rococo-style painting with all flowers and vines on the visible parts of his skin. The ink was old and the colors had partly merged, giving it all a soggy, swamp-like feel.

"Oh yeah? You are brave to say that to my face." The man also woged. _Shit_, I thought and quickly picked up my phone, pretending to answer it while I passed them. Either the Skalengecken I'd previously encountered was total softies or this dealer was a Skalenzahne. Or something liked that. Thick scales. Lots of teeth, huge and asymmetrical. I tried not to look at him; I didn't want to trigger an unintentional woge out of fear. Judging by his body size I estimated he would not need more than a minute to beat me unconscious and pluck me like a goose and I did not want to give him a reason to try.

I stopped walking when I rounded the nearest block and put my phone away, leaning against the building. My heart was racing but I could not hold back a little smile. This slow day had suddenly turned very intense and I loved it. I wasn't in danger. I had nothing to do with the two people I had left behind me and could easily walk away without it ever bothering me again. But I wouldn't. I had started this now, it was exciting and I was going to finish it one way or another.

Just as I was about to look around the corner to see if they both were still there, the woman passed the very same corner and bumped into me.

"Watch it", she warned without looking at me.

"Sorry!"

She shook her head and continued. I quickly made sure the man wasn't following her and went after her. Sink or swim; this was it.

The woman's hair had a ratty color. Fitting, I thought and summoned up all rodent related puns I could think of. The woman slipped into an empty alley and when I entered after her I called out:

"Oi! Don't you run off like that with your naked tail between your legs!" The woman, who had just lit a cigarette almost tripped over her feet and turned around.

"What?" Oh, she had heard exactly right.

"You look like you've just escaped from a laboratory!" I took a step forward. This was so offensive to her. I smiled.

"Are you talking to me?" She took two steps forward. Well duh, who else?

"I think that you should be able to hear me with those big ears of yours." The woman seemed startled by this aggression, but not afraid. She took a hit and blew out the smoke through her nose.

"What do you want?"

"I just want to talk." I really, really liked this. My adrenaline was through the roof but I remained in my pose. The woman examined me and decided I wasn't a threat. She relaxed a little and rolled her eyes.

"I don't do talking", she said, clearly contradicting herself.

"The prices are too high, eh?" I said, referring to her fight earlier. She understood I had heard at least some of it.

"That's none of your business."

"But I'd like to make it my business. Treat yourself", I said, opening up my wallet,"in exchange for some info." I took out ten dollars. She looked suspicious.

"That's not much you know."

"I have several questions. I'm not a cop and you don't have to feel like a snitch for answering them." She took several seconds to think about it.

"Go ahead."

I considered my options. Should I start slowly? Ask for her name? No, she might not want to give out personal information and also; I don't need to know. Start by planting a greater reward than money on her radar by asking if Swamp-Skull from earlier was bothering her and if there'd be anything Icould do about it? No, not without getting my info first. I should go right at it.

"How many Grimms are there in the city?" The woman flinched. She had not been ready for this question. I hoped she would be cool about it and not freak out.

"... One, I've heard."

"Man or woman?"

"Man."

"Profession? You anything about that?"

"He... He's with the police."

"Oficially?" Perhaps he was just following them, leaving decapitated criminals behind him.

"He's a detective I think... working with murders, hey, I don't like these questions."

"But I've barely started!"

"Yeah, I don't even know who you are." I sighed and was about to reply "does it matter?", but decided not to. I knew she didn't want my name or adress. She wanted to know _what_ I was. Maybe I should've started with "What's your name."

"If this is what you wanted." I took a deep breath and woged. My jacket fit tight around my arms so it wasn't very comfortable and when the Reinigen had understood what I was I shook it off. She did unfortunately not look pleased.

"Now you know", I said, "Can we continue?"

"You're a fucking black-beak. Should've known."

"Hey! That's really offensive. And aren't those teeth big enough to block out such words?"

"Dirty thief." She spat on the ground. This was hilarious. I put away my wallet.

"Wheel-runner! Drain-diver! Pink-nose!"

"Do you want me to punch you?"

"Try biting. I know you can…"

The woman had had enough. She walked right up to me and raised her fist.

"But remember! You'll have to kill me to stop me from coming after you." The woman held herself back.

"You're new. You have no power here." She sounded unsure, so I ignored her.

"We wouldn't want a murder committed by a Reinigen to attract that detective you spoke of, would we?"

I could see the frustration written all over her face. She lowered her fist a little, unsure what to do with me. I smiled triumphantly but only had the time to open my mouth to speak again until she woged and punched me in the face.

"That's enough", she muttered. I barely heard her though, as my brain was running an emergency program to determine the damage she had done and I did not have the CPU performance for both carrying on a conversation and getting beaten at the same time. While trying to stop the blood coming out of my nose I could see the woman walking away from me. No, this wasn't right. One last try.

"No, no, no, don't leave; seriously, I can help you."

"I don't care." She kept walking. I supported weight by leaning against a wall. I could use the woman's prejudice against my kind in my favor. Yes, we were considered to be liars and thieves but we also had a reputation to get things done quickly and neatly.

"Give me 48 hours and I'll get you whatever you need from Mr. Ink-Scale." The woman slowed down her pace, interested. She was too sassy to show it clearly though.

"Anything I want?" What could she want? I could pickpocket him anytime, maybe even break into his stash and get some for this woman. Whatever she wanted.

"Yes." She paused for a second and looked me in the eye.

"I want him gone. Can you do that?"

Oh. This could be tricky, but rewarding if I succeed. I wanted to ask follow up questions to know why this was what she needed, but that could scare her off. This was going to require some intense planning. Also, did I have to kill him or just get him to stay away from this woman? Whatever. What did I have to lose?

"Deal. I am going to need your name to contact you when I'm done."

"Ask for Turi. They'll know me." Turi left me. Who'd know her? Should I just... come back here and search for anyone who might know who "Turi" was? I'd have to solve that problem.

I stayed around until the caffeine/adrenalin rush I was on was gone before I took a taxi back to my hotel. I had a single bed that wasn't very cosy but it had clean, white sheets that I spread out on. I felt a pleasant tingle in my stomach. I had my first contact in Portland. It was no one important, no one who would be of much use to me, but yet a contact. Turi the Reinigen would be the first of many, unless I screwed up and needed to move. Again. My parents would not be pleased to hear that I had failed. They wouldn't be very pleased if I my dreams came true either, they wanted me to give up my Falschdieb hopes and dreams and only concentrate on my writing career. I did enjoy writing and was unusually talented but it could become boring from time to time. I wanted at least some excitement in my life and if it meant I would get into trouble once or twice or… all the time… that would be a prize I'd be ready to pay. I took a shower to cleanse my mind and went to sleep. I had plans for the morning.


	2. Venomica and a headdress full of lies

2\. Venomica and a headdress full of lies

I felt well rested when I woke up in the morning. I concidered just forgetting about Turi and move on; she didn't have that much potential as a contact and the prize for her friendship was high, but I really wanted to continue down this line, even if just for practice.

I was not experienced with murder. I had never even been close to killing someone. I was not very strong. I did not know karate or any other martial art and the few hands on fights I'd been in as a kid had usually ended with me losing. Fire arms should be easier to come by here than in Sweden but a shooting would be a risk, the police would be there in no time and I was not ready to deal with that Grimm Turi said worked for them. If I was to get someone else to kill Swamp-skull for me it'd have to be someone I really trust would not just betray me, and since I did not have any close contacts in the entire country and it would take time for me to build up that kind of relationship I did not consider it a viable option.

I did have a questionably vast knowledge about poison I possibly could use that I had gathered during a weird phase in my childhood. The guy was a dealer, meaning it wouldn't cause much suspicion if he died of what would look like an overdose. It would be preferable to use his own stuff to really make it look like accidental suicide but I was not sure he sold substances that were dangerous for him. I knew Skalengecken had high resistance against a lot of different toxins so maybe it was the same with Skalenzahnen. They were quite similar. Botulinum toxin was a reliable poison that worked quickly and would not be a suspected cause of death if the victim was not a user of Botox but it was expensive and hard to come by in deadly doses. Was Turi really worth the effort?

Possibly, I could "give him an offer he could not refuse" and make him leave town. Probably that'd be a very bad idea to try out. He was a tough guy and I was just some woman who talks too much. I should wait with the blackmailing until I actually had something to threaten people with.

There was a third option.

I could frame Swamp-skull for a crime and get the police to lock him away. That could work. Maybe I didn't even have to frame him, just prove the crimes he'd committed. I needed to get close to him either way so I decided I would go searching for clues about him sometime today, but for the moment my first priority was to get breakfast.

There were many people in the streets today, the mild spring weather filled many hearts with a lust for shopping. I saw the regular workers and shoppers whose type I recognized from Stockholm but also the famous Portland hipsters who up close weren't as magical as the legends foretold.

I walked quite far until the grumbles in my stomach were greater than my will to save my money from the expensive cafés and stayed at a cute little place where I could sit outside. It was rather empty and I thought it could become a favorite place of mine if it was always this peaceful. I bought my food and sat down, closing my eyes to bathe in the sun. It was lovely.

"Hello? Excuse me?" A male voice asked for my attention. I opened my eyes and saw a rather good-looking man holding a sandwich and a cup. He smiled.

"I'm sorry, I didn't wake you up, did I?"

This guy looked like he was looking at a girl who was way hotter than me. I was flattered of course but not interested and decided I could just play a flirting game for fun.

"No, no I was just enjoying the weather." I adjusted my clothing and smiled back.

"Can I sit here?" There was a second chair at my table.

"Oh! Of course, no problem." The man sat down.

"The coffee here is good. Stronger than usually."

"Really? That's good to hear. I'm new." I bent forward a little bit and winked way too many times to show submission. Hopefully he was into that.

"I can hear that in your accent. How long are you staying?" I shook my shoulders and took a sip of my coffee. It was quite good.

"I'm not planning on leaving if I put it that way."

"Oh. Good!" I frowned.

"Good because… Portland needs immigrants to fill all houses?"

"No, maybe, I mean it's a nice city."

"I hope so." He was so awkward I suspected he was only acting to seem cute. His blue eyes were piercing mine through his fringe. Were we both just playing?

"So… What's your name?" he asked.

"I'm Laura", I said. I didn't have to give out false information so I decided to stick to the truth.

"I'm Anton. It's nice to meet you."

I acted shy and pulled my hair out of my face.

"So what are you doing here then?"

I was just about to answer that I was a writer looking for inspiration when a barista who'd just come out to clean the tables saw Anton. The barista hit the table she was closest to with her fist, making a loud sound that caught Anton's attention. Anton looked up, startled. I was also surprised, unsure what was going on and how I should handle the situation. They stared at each other for an intense moment; the barista boiling with rage and Anton embarrassed.

"Oh… You work on Thursdays?" Anton smiled nervously.

"Leave." The barista's voice was sharp and commanding. Anton stood up and looked at me but I was clearly not his number one priority anymore.

"See you around, Laura." He winked at me and left, looking over his shoulder at the barista who was still staring him down.

"Uh, excuse me but… What's going on?" I asked the barista who was slowly calming down.

"You probably shouldn't drink that", the barista said, finally turning to me and nodding towards my coffee. I had already had some.

"Who not?"

"He could have put something in it. I know him."

"Oh." He had definitely been acting then. This wasn't good.

"Do you think he drugged me?"

"Maybe. Give it to me." Why would one want to drug someone in broad daylight? Was I feeling nauseous? Did I see more colors than usually? Should I get help? I gave my mug to the barista who sniffed it, frowned poured it out on the ground.

"Yeah, that's not good."

"If this is some bad joke I'm not the one to-"

"I have some experience with this venom so you'll just have to trust me on this one, girl", the barista interrupted.

"Venom?" My voice was a little higher pitched than I wanted it to be.

"Please don't freak out." That's easy for her to say.

"Shouldn't I call someone? Like a doctor? Maybe the police?" The barista seemed conflicted but eventually made up her mind.

"Nah. I've dealt with this before. Hang on. I'll give you an address." She got a pen out and scribbled something on my napkin.

"Go there, it's a spice shop but they've got other things as well. Say you were poisoned with Falsch-Feder Gift. I better write the name of that down too, I guess." She reached for my napkin again but I put a finger on it, holding it down and looked up at the barista. There was no way this was a coincidence.

"Hang on. Falsch-Feder Gift?" The barista raised an eyebrow.

"You know what it is?" I was about to get upset about that I had become upset for no reason. I didn't want to risk sounding really angry at the innocent barista so I just woged and showed her what I meant. As a Falschdieb I knew every aspect of Falsch-Feder, false-feather. I had lots of that kind of feathers and their chemical effects in potions and poisons could not harm me in any way.

"Ooooh", she said, "I guess you're lucky then." That wasn't a bad reaction. She was as obviously not as prejudiced as Turi. I shook my frustration off and sighed.

"Thanks for trying to save me and all but I think you owe me a coffee."

The barista grinned and pulled her hand through her short afro. She seemed relieved and was probably a nice person but it disturbed me that she hadn't woged as well to even the odds and show respect. Maybe she wasn't even wesen and just happened to know more things about the world than everyone else, like my mother. Either way I felt I wanted to know more.

"Haha, I can get you a refill, no problem."

She noticed my face and particularly my eyes, hinting that she had forgot to tell me something.

"Oh", she said when she understood what I meant, "you don't want to know. You don't even want to know how much time and money I've spent on yoga-classes to keep myself in check. It's pretty bad."

"Aha. Envious I guess?" I asked, a little dissatisfied.

"Kind of, yeah."

"I bet you don't have to hide from people who want to flay you alive and sell parts of you as a love potions."

"That's true. Hey, I need to get back to work now. And stay away from Anton, will you?"

I suddenly got an idea. This could work. It could at least be fun to try.

"Hey, you wouldn't be interested in a job I have for you tonight?"

"Eh, it depends on what kind of job it is."

"If done right, it could pay off way more than this one."

"It's illegal, isn't it?" She did not sound like someone who got kicks from breaking the law.

"Not… Really… I think. Maybe. I don't plan on hurting anyone anyway." I could use a few more minutes deciding the details of the plan.

"Fair enough. Meet me here in five hours and we'll talk." That went well.

"Deal. What's your name?"

"Veronica."

I kept the napkin Veronica had written on. Via the address I asked my way to the tiny spice shop. I'd never been to a spice shop before but it at least it smelled better than I imagined. When I opened the door a bell chimed. The walls were cluttered with books, bottles and boxes on shelves. There were herbs hanging from the ceiling and despite the lack of space to move around in the shop felt homely and safe. A young woman showed up from behind a drape covering a second room.

"Hello. How can I help you?" She appeared friendly and smiled, though she kept a distance and walked up to the counter.

"I... need to know if you have a... something", I said.

"Well of course. What is it you need?"

"How... how big is your stock of Falsch-Federn?" Good thing I chose to learn german in school instead of spanish. The brunette at the counter looked suspicious of my request but remained professional. I knew it wasn't the most common thing to find in a spice shop but the circumstances made me think she had some.

"That depends, do you want them pulverized or in their original condition?" Did this mean she had both?

"I'm mostly after intact goods."

"In that case... I might have some. Give me a moment." She hurried back into the second room and I heard her open several drawers. Finally she came out with an object that was both one of the most beautiful and most repulsive things I'd ever seen.

It was an ancient-looking indian headdress with lots and lots of black and white feathers. The ribbon holding it all together was deep red and reminded me of old blood. This was not like a Lausenschlange seeing a pair of snake skin boots, these feathers were from people I somewhere deep down were related to. It was a symbol for the vicious hunting exerted upon my kind. It was a gorgeous headdress, but I wished it didn't exist. There was no way I was going to let it continue existing.

"It's old, but I assure you it's in perfect condition."

"Can I have a look at it?" I reached out my hands and had the thing carefully handed to me. After examing it, estimating the feathers came from at least five people, I looked up at the woman and shook my head.

"I'm afraid I can't let you keep this one. Sorry." The woman frowned.

"Why, what do you mean?"

"I'm taking it. And if you have any of the pulverized stuff or so I suggest you get rid of it fast because when I return I'm not sure I can control my behaviour if I see another sign of you selling the remains of slaghtered innocents."

Speechless the woman watched while I turned to the door and began to leave. Just when I opened the door I decided to say one last thing just in case.

"Oh and if you call the police you won't only have to deal with me, but also the special someone who gave me the address. I know she has quite a temper."

I smiled, spat on the ground and left the spice shop.


	3. Deals, devils and death

3\. Deals, devils and death

Trying not to worry about the looks I got from bystanders when I triumphantly trotted down the street with the headdress I realized I really had no idea what to do with the despicable object. I didn't want to keep it, that'd be gross and also disrespectful. Should I bury it? The last time I'd been at a funeral was when my granddad died when I was ten. I was not very experienced with the whole death-thing. Though I did – I remembered – know someone who at least sounded like he had an idea of how death-things worked. I figured it was worth a try.

Finding him wasn't difficult, he was at the same corner as yesterday where we had eaten lunch, yelling the same things I guessed he'd always been, intensely waving his arms at the people walking by who accidentally looked like they were listening.

"Hey", I said.

"THE DARKNESS DEVOURS THE UNWORTHY!" the preacher shouted.

"How's it going?"

"THE DEAD SHALL RISE AGAIN, THE SKIES SHALL CRY AND THE SUN SHALL FADE AWAY!"

"You remember me from yesterday?" The man nodded slightly. He was bald and had several miscoloured spots on his pale scalp, some even bigger than his wide open, light brown eyes. It was difficult to tell for sure but he could to be of North African origin. If his first language was Arabic it would explain his accent.

"It seems you are still tied tightly to this timeline, yes?"

"Uh, indeed I am. You wouldn't mind helping me out if I shared another lunch with you?" The man hesitated, a little uncomfortable and suspicious. I guessed he didn't have normal conversations with people very often. Although it was true my intentions were not exactly normal.

"It is only the weak who make deals with the devil!"

"I see. I only thought you might be able to help me with a… burial. " The man frowned, but it was obvious he was curious.

"Nooo… Why would a devil seek out the screaming slave to make him do the work of the wise men?" He frowned. "Why would the devil ever want to release the souls she trapped in the netherworld?" It struggled with the insane man's way of communicating but did my best to interpret his sentences.

"It is not certain these souls are meant for hell", I said and pointed at the headdress," they have to be released from limbo to be judged. No wise men can reach into limbo, but a… screaming slave… one who truly knows death, can. Will you help me?" I held up the headdress for the man to examine it closer. He seemed to go through a very complicated process in his head as he wrinkled his face. After a few seconds he relaxed.

"When is a good time to start this process?"

"How about right after you've had something to eat?"

"Good choice, the meat must be alive and strong for my soul to have something to return to after the trip to limbo."

"Come on then! You must be starving."

After getting a full meal to eat the man softened up enough to tell me his name. Yesterday he had only spoken to me with his usual riddles so it was apparent he was beginning to trust me, even though he still called me "devil" and rarely looked me in the eyes.

"I was born as Seth, and Seth is who I've been since that day."

"Seth? That's a nice name."

"It's a common name for an uncommon person."

"I think you and I are similar that way." I had never been too fond of the name Laura anyways.

"If that is what the devil says." I had bought him a big burger and he was licking the last of the salt from his fries off his fingers when I found it an appropriate time to ask a few logistical questions.

"So, this burial. Where are we going when we're done here?" Seth looked up at me and took a second to think about it.

"I must prepare the remains. I would say I need the time until the sun sets for that." I fought to hold back the impulse to sigh.

"Hang on, didn't you say you would start the funeral right after this meal?"

"A burial is an important matter where many things can go very wrong. A devil should know that." I was not overly pleased with Seth's answers but I decided not to debate with a crazy man. I would be busy tonight with Veronica but the burial could probably wait until tomorrow.

"How about tomorrow morning?"

"I can accept that. Meet me on the north side of Willamette river under Fremont bridge at dawn."

"At dawn?" That would be annoyingly early by this time of year. Seth glared at me.

"We do this my way or not at all."

"Hmpf. Sure." If anthing, it could be an interesting experience.

I left Seth with the headdress after explaining it wasn't worth stealing. He was a little bit insulted by me implying he was a thief but I didn't worry too much about it.

I had survived all the times people had thought that about me. Of course, many of those times people had called me a thief I actually had stolen something from them. A form of kleptomania was a bit of a problem in my family. It wasn't for nothing we were called Falschdiebe, devious thiefs, even though nowadays with cameras in every shop we had been forced to learn at least some impulse control. Being a wesen was sometimes hard, but if I was only human life would be so much more boring. Of course, some wesen had been through enough excitement, or should I say trauma, to make them loathe their true selves. I wondered what Veronica had witnessed.

* * *

"Coffee, was it?"

"Yes, thank you, Veronica."

I had spent some time window-shopping before I went back to the café where Veronica worked. She had just ended her shift and had a light-grey jacket on and a very stealable bag over her shoulder that almost made me regret I hadn't done any shoplifting on the way to cure the itching in my fingers. She gave me a warm paper cup to go and asked where we could talk.

"Well, I have a hotel room but I suspect that would be a little too intimate for us."

Veronica cracked a smile.

"Yes. Hey, there's a park not too far from here."

It was a bit of a walk before we got there. Veronica brought her bike.

"So what do you do for a living?"

"Well, I… I was employed in the mining industry back in Sweden. I say I'm from Stockholm because I grew up there but the mines were far north. I quit right before I moved. I prefer working in less dark, enclosed and cold environments but you should have seen my paycheck. I saved enough to move here and start doing the things I like to do. I write, for example. I'm on my third book now. The first one even got published and sold pretty good, a horrible love story. The latest two are classic science fiction with spaceships and ice planets and such."

It felt good talking about myself even though it also made me feel a little vulnerable. I shook off the sensation, Veronica was just small talking and not trying to get to know me better so that I easier could be manipulated.

"Ice planets? I thought you got tired of snow if you live in Sweden."

"There's not _that_ much snow. At least not in Stockholm. In Kiruna where the mine was there was more but that was just a source of inspiration for me."

"Hm."

"And you? Have you always been making cappuccinos in that place?"

"Pretty much. Although at one point I wanted to become a bartender like my boyfriend.

"You have a boyfriend who's a bartender?" Unfortunately I must have lit up for a second at the thought of having a bartender as a contact, those people know _everything_, because right after I said that I saw Veronica turn to the ground with a very sad expression and I immediately regretted being so pushy.

"Had. Quinn was shot last year by the Verrat."

"I'm so sorry", I said, instinctively, before what she actually had said hit me.

"Wait, Verrat? He wasn't in the resistance, was he?"

"Does it matter for you?"

"It matters for me if _you_ are in the resistance! Hey, if your… former boyfriend was found out, you could get found out too and killed and here I am, trying to speak all discreetly to you, they would go after me too for sure only because it looks a bit suspicious!"

"Hey." Veronica said and stopped me. We had reached the park. "Quinn was part the resistance. I'm not. Do you seriously think that if I were, I would be talking to someone like _you_? Like you wouldn't sell me out for whatever shiny piece of junk the Verrat happen to have lying around as soon as you found out?"

"That is a little racist."

"You're a little stupid."

"You're a little coward for not taking out revenge for Quinn."

"You're very insensitive about this."

"You're very blind."

"You're… what?"

I showed Veronica the mobile phone I had slipped out from her bag while she was busy confronting me. I smiled. She rolled her eyes.

"Oh my God. You're the worst person I've met today."

I gave her phone back and we sat down in on the grass in the shadow of a big maple tree. The park was not very big but there wasn't many people in our area so we found it safe to talk freely there. I believed her when she said she wasn't in the resistance. She didn't have that specific spark in her, I could see it in her eyes. Not that I was against the resistance any more than I was against the Verrat, both sides had a habit of killing very talanted and useful people only justified by things that had happened in the past and it was safest to stay out of their way.

Veronica placed her bag just a bit out of my reach. Most likely intentionally.

"Now. What's the deal? What do you need me for?"

I took a sip of my coffee (it was a lot better than the awful stuff from McDonalds) and wondered where I should begin to make her interested. I decided to go for the dramatic approach and slowly put my coffee mug down.

"Yesterday", I started, "I saw something bad. I saw a junkie Reinigen stand up for herself against a Skalenzahne who was her dealer."

"You saw someone die?" Veronica asked, concerned. I found it rather funny that she thought a situation like that had to end in blood but probably I wouldn't think any differently than her, and that shouldn't be funny at all.

"No! No, she's still alive. I think. They parted and I asked the Reinigen if she was allright. You know, anyone in her situation you think would say 'I'm just fine, don't worry about, get out of my face, I screwed up and need to hide'. Right?"

"Seems logical, yes."

"She didn't do that. She asked me to 'get rid of' this dealer. As in 'make sure he never comes back'. Now I wondered, why would she want that? I had heard from the dealer himself when they were arguing that he sold something that only he had access to. If he vanished she would no longer be able to buy whatever-it-is from him. She wouldn't ask me to take away her only source of that."

"Unless she was upset and didn't think that far because she's an addict?"

"Oh but that's the thing with addicts. What would she possibly think of right then if not drugs? What _did_ she think of? What could be more important for someone so deep down the mire than making sure she will be able to continue her addiction?"

"What about her pride?"

"I told you she was a Reinigen."

"Oh, right."

"I want to find this dealer and find out more about him. I don't think selling drugs is the only thing that tattooed chrome dome is doing wrong."

Veronica suddenly flinched. She seemed concerned.

"Wait. Is this guy like really big?"

"Both in height and width. Why so?"

"Does his tattoos depict some kind of a jungle with flowers and stuff? Is he latino?"

"Why does it sound like you know this guy?"

Veronica bit her lip and sighed.

"Because I did once. I'm no saint. And before you think I'm telling you this because I trust you I should say it's only because I hate lying about myself. Before I went wieder I did a lot of things I am not very proud of. I won't say I didn't enjoy it because no matter what the anti-bullying organizations say, it is empowering to opress others and power is difficult to let go of. I worked for Gabriel, that's his name by the way, for nearly two years. I was a barista by day and arm-breaker by night. I met him a few times personally but thankfully I got most of my orders from his jackals."

"Arm-breaker?"

"Literally. I got very good at that. I got good at venoms and poisons too."

"Gabriel, was it? He is in darker stuff than I thought then. Is this all about drugs?"

Veronica shook her head.

"He only sells for pocket money. I've never wanted to know what it was all about, I wanted the kick and the cash, that's it."

I found it very difficult to see Veronica as a ruthless crook. She looked like the typical cute barista with her fluffy hair and simple make-up. Maybe she was hiding it all in her true form. I wondered what she actually was and if she would flip out and eat me if she woged as if she had forgotten she had been talking to her picknick snack the entire time.

"I see. Well, I only wanted you as my muscles if I screwed up trying to frame Gabriel for some crime because you implied you were something rather dangerous but now I guess you are becoming useful in more than one way."

"So what, you want to tear down the whole syndicate or whatever I should call it for the sake of one Reinigen? And you expect me to help you?"

"Maybe we could save a few people's arms from getting broken when we're at it."

"There's a reason the police aren't already dealing with this you know."

"I think you should see this as a way to redeem yourself from past crimes, don't be such a sissy."

Veronica stared me down.

"Don't talk to me that way."

"Give me a reason, you little chicken."

"Would you shut up?"

"You're probably just afraid of getting shot like Quinn."

Finally Veronica gave up her calm facade and woged. She grew little grey-brown scales all over the showing skin in a flowing pattern, even replacing her hair. Her pupils narrowed and her teeth grew to sharp spikes as she snarled at me, showing off a long, forked tongue.

"I can break more precious things than arms too", she hissed. She was a Lausenschlange. One who worked in the catering industry. That was perfect. Every person had secrets that could be used to manipulate them. From my knowledge about the Lausenschlangen's reputation of being unsanitary and Veronicas unwillingness to tell me what she was I concluded that Veronica was hiding herself from someone at her place of work.

"I can see why you would want to hide that, especially in your current profession."

Veronica changed back as I took another sip of my coffee. Her inner conflict was great to watch. I really hoped she wouldn't decide to just kill me.

"If you tell anyone..."

"Who should I not tell? Your boss? It's your boss, isn't it?"

"Oh come on, I don't want to lose my job for this."

"Then help me out."

"What if I strangle you and hide you in the bushes?" I desperately tried to keep my cool.

"Oh come on. It'll be fun. I know you'll like it."

Veronica let out a sound of frustration.

"FINE. Fine. I'll do it."

_Yes._

"Good choice. Hey, what you are might even come in handy. Look at it this way, Lausenschlangen are the ones who kill, not the ones who get killed. You'll be just fine."

The defeated Veronica looked down at the ground and pulled at the grass.

"That's what Quinn said when he joined the resistance. It did not help him."


	4. My serpentine Valentine

4\. My Serpentine Valentine

"But are you sure he will be home?" I asked Veronica.

"He rarely leaves his home. Which – now that I think about it – is a very good thing for the common citizen."

"Come on, how bad can a guy with a silly name like that really be? Marty O'Sullivan sounds like it's taken from a cartoon."

We were leaning against a brick wall close to the entrance to a by American standards old apartment complex next to a considerably foul dumpster. We were pretending to be smoking while talking through the last details before our meeting with one of Veronicas former "friends". Smoking was such a good cover. If you saw someone just standing around doing nothing it was easy to imagine them being up to something, but if they had a cigarette in their hands you never would feel the need to ask them what they're doing and if they really were up to something you would never know.

It was getting darker and colder by the minute. Veronica and I had spent the last hours tracking down any possibly useful contacts that could bring them closer to Gabriel and had finally found the address to a man Veronica had worked together with quite a lot.

"He can be a bit rude but mostly he acts friendly, just don't think he won't crush you if he has to."

"I'm expecting a brute with a cute smile."

"He's short and skinny. From what I remember he looks like he's never been in a gym and his smile is far from cute."

"Oh. Maybe he's just not your type?" Veronica glared at me, irritated for what felt like the millionth time since we'd met in the morning.

"He looks like a rat." It hit me that I hadn't even asked Veronica if Marty was Wesen.

"Well? Is he a… rat?" Veronica chuckled.

"No. He is not like… what did you say her name was? Turi."

"What is he then?" A creeping smile made its way onto Veronica's lips. I did not interpret that as a good omen.

"You'll see. He can introduce himself."

"What? Why don't you just tell me?" People like Veronica who was so easy playing around with usually weren't the kind to play around with others.

"Because the chock might just teach you a lesson not to underestimate anyone in Gabriel's network. Also, it'll be a good revenge to see your face when you find out for yourself now that you've screwed up my day."

Maybe Marty was a Lebensauger. That would give anyone a chock. No, that wouldn't be menacing enough. Veronica knew I had a slight fear of the Verrat, could he be Hundjäger? No, after what happened to Quinn she would never agree to go see Marty if he was. He had a small build, was involved in organized crime and Veronica expected him to frighten me. He was most likely Geier and I had to admit to myself that the thought of being close to a Geier did not make me feel warm and relaxed. Being what I was most Geier saw me as a walking pharmacy ready to be exploited. The majority of the Falschdieb-parts that could be found in the spice shop I had visited earlier had probably been "collected" by Geier.

Whatever Marty was, another thing that concerned me was Veronica's change in mood. The entire day she'd been first helpful and a little submissive, then she'd gotten grumpier and grumpier and now I could almost see how she could have been a fearsome creature of the night once.

"Geez," I muttered, "you're starting to sound like me."

We put our unlit cigarettes pack in their package and I packed it away. I put my hand on the door and waited while Veronica took a few deep breaths.

"You know, some people would call you brave walking so fearlessly into dangerous situations," she said.

"Oh yeah?"

"I think you're just stupid." I just smiled as a response. Movies with Al Pacino had told me most of what I needed to know about voluntary risk-taking so smiling I found was the most sensible thing I could do.

"You ready yet?"

"Yes", Veronica said, "Let's do this. Just let me soften him up first before you screw us over, okay?"

I nodded. I knew I could be a bit intense and we didn't want to attract cops. Especially not if one of those cops was the renowned Grimm.

I opened the door. The inside was clean and the air smelled like soap but there were mould and water damaging in the walls. Marty lived on the second floor in the apartment to the right.

"You want to knock?" I asked Veronica. She knocked three times and stood back.

"Oh, right, by the way. Marty knows me as Valentine Boutroux. I had a name change when I quit." I raised an eyebrow.

"You're _French_? I knew there was something to your accent."

"Who is it?" a man's voice called from behind the door. He sounded busy, but not in a where-did-I-put-my-gun way. More like a grandmother-baking-three-different-cookies-at-once way.

"Come see for yourself, Marty", Veronica replied.

"Why would he do that?" I whispered, "That's totally not safe."

"Trust me", Veronica whispered back, "this guy does not need precautions." I could smell food from the apartment, maybe I wasn't so far off with the grandmother analogy.

The door was eventually unlocked and a man hardly taller than 160 cm peered out through it. His face was a bit sunken in but his eyes had a charming shine to them. He did not live up to my expectation of him being some sort of a body-builder-ninja-type. He looked more like a man who'd stopped using meth a while ago because he'd taken up a more interesting hobby. Marty first looked at me, examining me without appearing too impressed before he recognized Veronica.

"No way", he said wide-eyed and opened up the door, letting us into his neatly but practically furnished home. That's something I wouldn't have done if a scaly, sharp-toothed bone-breaker came to visit me after being away for two years but maybe just that's because I would not be able to defend myself against someone like that. Again I wondered what Marty was, besides what I could tell from the wonderful scent from the kitchen, a great chef.

"I thought you were dead", Marty said. I noticed this conversation could get awkward.

"That was the point. You think Gabriel would have let me go if I was alive?"

"Christ, Valentine, I mourned you." Valentine pursed her lips.

"Sure you did, Marty."

"You made me deal with all of those people alone. You know how they are!"

"Like it mattered for me. It's not like you were my friend. I didn't leave because I had to, I left because I wanted to." Marty snorted haughtily. He was not acting as goofy as I had been told he would.

"As rude as I remember. Those were good times."

"And then I decided dishonesty, violence and treason weren't something I should encourage." A little worried I glanced at Veronica. If she truly wasn't into hurting people I wondered how I'd managed to convince her to, maybe not trust, but at least listen to a literal devious thief. My paranoia told me to be careful.

"Right. Why are you even here after all this time? I thought Quinn was the only man fantastic enough to care about."

As I saw Veronica woge for a second time that day I made a mental note not to bring up Quinn in a conversation with her ever again in case the re-opened wounds one day would make her go berserk.

Then as a response to Veronica, Marty woged and when I saw what he was I could not help but do that too. I had not expected _this_. His thin hair turned white, his skin lost its colour and lustreless it tightened around his skull and wrinkled itself into a snarling grimace. His elongated teeth looked almost rotten but still sharper than Veronica's reptilic fangs. His voice had a higher pitch than normal when he spoke.

"I like you Valentine, but don't ever test my temper."

They both changed back. Veronica lowered her gaze to her feet. Yup, the smell from the kitchen was definitely meat boiling. I took a step towards the door but they both turned to me. I felt like a sparrow in a snake's nest.

"So what's with the Black-beak?" Marty asked Veronica.

"That's Laura. I don't… know your surname Laura, what is it?"

"It's Storm. Laura Storm", I managed to get out.

"She's a bit weird."

"Aren't they all? But yes, she's a bit freaked out. I didn't tell her about you."

"You're a naughty woman Valentine. Do you remember when I gave that old lady a heart attack?"

"That's not something you easily forget. Her face…"

Both Marty and Victoria burst out laughing. The embarrassment of the situation brought me back to my senses somewhat and I tried to laugh with them for my comfort.

I had only seen a Wendigo once before. He had been at a camping, slicing up pieces of "smoked ham" and giving samples to nearby kids. The next time I'd seen his face had been in a newspaper next to the words "serial" and "killer". If Veronica had been the one who threatened people into obeying Gabriel, Marty must have been the one who made people disappear if they still didn't listen.

Marty eventually stopped laughing, wiped a tear from his dry face and pulled out a stool from under a table.

"Hey. Laura. It's okay. Don't worry. Here, sit down."

"I'm fine", I said but accepted the seat. Marty turned to Victoria.

"Our differences aside, Valentine, it's good to have you back. Am I the first one you speak to?"

"What do you mean?"

"How many of the others have you told about your return from the dead?"

"Who do you mean with 'the others'?"

"What do you mean? You're back! You have to update your network!" I could see how close Veronica was to facepalm right then.

"I am not here to ask for a job. I've moved on. I let you think I was dead so you would accept the fact that I am never coming back to your stinking affairs." Marty pulled out another stool and sat down next to me. He seemed very confused.

"But then… Why are you here?"

"Actually it's Laura who wanted to speak to you." Marty glanced at me critically with raised eyebrows.

"She wouldn't last a–"

"She's not asking for a job either." Marty sighed. I felt a little offended for not being seen as someone who could take care of herself. Of course, I didn't think I could match the fighting skills of a trained predatory wesen.

"No wonder the unemployment rate is so high when no one accepts their offers."

"Very funny."

"I know, right? But seriously though." Marty licked his dry lips and stood up, "I guess I can hear what you have to say, Laura, but not before I have some of my meat stew. That recipe has been passed on for generations. Do you want some too?"

"It sure smells nice, but do you have enough for all of us?" Veronica asked.

"Yes, sure, I always make too much of it anyway."

I was not particularly thrilled with this. I was hungry, but not _that_ hungry. Marty sensed my concern and smiled. As I had been warned it was not a cute smile, crooked with unnaturally white teeth.

"Again, don't worry. It's beef." I wondered if Marty even was a cannibal like general belief suggested. He was a little creepy at least and he had to be prone to some kind of violence to have worked with Veronica. Most likely was probably that it was hard to stay out of jail if you lived on a diet entirely consisting of human flesh.

Marty went into the kitchen and brought out plates with mashed potatoes, boiled peas and a wonderfully seasoned beef stew. It was the best meal I'd had in the country so far. Peppery and creamy, the hot stew made me relax and get comfortable enough to start being myself again. I was still a little bit suspicious of the pieces of meat but ate them anyway since they were irresistibly tender and anyone who would miss them was already dead.

"So Laura, how long have you known Valentine for?" Marty asked between the bites. He ate with two forks instead of one fork and one knife. It looked stupid but efficient when he scooped the stew down.

"Well… I met her this morning."

"I take it you're not friends then."

"No, that would be an exaggeration. I think she hates me a little."

"Just a tiny bit", said Victoria.

"It's fascinating that you manage to get Valentine to speak of her past when you haven't known each other for a full day. You must be very charismatic. How did you make her tell you about me?"

"My main strategy is to act like an asshole until people are so frustrated they give me what I want."

"Very interesting. I might try that out some day."

"Just be careful. It can sometimes get messy." Marty showed off his weird smile again.

"Still not as messy as my methods." I didn't know how to react to that. Should I share my favourite tips on how to remove bloodstains from white clothing? Veronica reacted like she would if I had been the one to insinuate brutal violence; she rolled her eyes and sighed.

"Could you stop pretending you are cooler than everyone else for just a few minutes?

"Details, details. Things have changed while you were gone."

"Changes? I didn't believe any of you people were capable of change."

"Aren't you yourself a perfect example to suggest otherwise?"

"That's not what I meant, I'm not like you."

"Don't be so sure."

"Sorry to interrupt you lovebirds but can I ask the things I'm here to ask soon?" I was getting a little impatient. I had planned to find Gabriel before it was so late it would be impossible for me to both sleep well and meet up with Seth. Veronica and Marty could wait with arguing like a married couple until I was done.

"Why of course! Sorry, it's not every day one of your old colleagues show up from the dead." Marty leaned back in his chair and ignored Veronica's viperous glare. I took a deep breath and tried to forget the nauseating fact that the teeth in Marty's deceiving smile probably had chewed through human flesh. I was no angel, but even I had my limits.

"Okay. You know Gabriel? Of course you know Gabriel."

"I'm assuming you mean _that_ Gabriel. Yes, I've met him a few times."

"Right. I need to know where I can find him." Marty raised an eyebrow.

"I thought you weren't going to apply for a job."

"Can I please keep my motives to myself?"

A thin veil of suspicion suddenly clouded Marty's face. _Shit_.

"No… No you can't."

Veronica jumped in and saved me.

"I've checked her motives, it's nothing that'll harm you in any way."

"Says the woman who despises the network."

"Would you shut up about that? You can trust me when I say this because I am so done with lies." Marty nodded towards Veronica but I saw that he did not trust me. I didn't blame him, really.

"You want me to tell you where you can find Gabriel. First, that's not a good idea. If you don't approve of what my kind is doing you will hate what Gabriel and his family are going to do. Second, I don't tell anybody where Gabriel can be found unless I know he'll like to meet the people I send to him. Third, I don't know where he is. He's been lying low lately."

"Is he planning something big?" Veronica asked.

"His family?" I asked. Veronica looked up.

"His _family?_" she repeated. Marty regretted his slippery tongue. Veronica craved answers. Marty lowered his voice.

"As I've told you, things have changed. His family will be here for a few weeks I've heard. I don't think it's a good sign. Yes, they're up to something and I advise you two to stay out of it. It won't be pretty. New guys are turning up. Most Asian. Stay out of their way. Don't even think about talking to them." The last sentence Marty directed towards me and the smile I accidentally had let slip under my impulse radar. He had given us some information. It wasn't enough to draw any conclusions but it was something.

"Are you sure you don't know where Gabriel is?" Veronica asked.

"Yes I am."

"No you're not."

"I'm not talking to you."

The pair was comically childish.

"Are you talking to me then?" I asked.

"I've told you enough. Did you enjoy the stew?" I didn't dare defying Marty any more than I'd already done and Veronica and I nodded.

"Good. Valentine, consider this your 'last supper'."

"Why, am I going to mysteriously die anytime soon? I can sleep with a knife by my side for a while."

"No, no, no, I'm not threatening you. You are already gone, my serpentine Valentine, but it was nice to have a last meal with a former partner."

"Hey, I was just kidding when I called you lovebirds." Marty blushed ever so slightly and Veronica got up from her seat.

"Laura. It's time to leave."

"Already?"

Marty looked uncomfortable. Veronica looked like she wasn't compromising. Marty looked a little sad. Veronica looked irritated. Marty looked frustrated. Veronica looked like she was about to hit someone.

"Okay. Let's go." Maybe there was nothing else we could get out of Marty than a few rumours and a tasty meal. It was not worth to stay and see Veronica and Marty get along so badly so I just accepted defeat and followed Veronica out of the neatly furnished apartment.

Streetlight illuminated the night outside and a police car passed an adjacent road.

"Well that went surprisingly well", I said. I wasn't sure how much irony I should use so I used too much.

"I won't talk about him. I'm just glad it's over. If you don't mind, I have to get up early tomorrow." Veronica unlocked her bike. We weren't going to catch Gabriel tonight. Veronica did not seem too upset about that.

"Hey, at least give me your number." Veronica gave me her number.

"I guess I'll… See you around", she said before pedalling away into the darkness.

I waited in the street a while before I started walking back to my hotel room.

A billboard caught my attention. It was tagged by the same graffiti artist I'd seen work from yesterday. There was a familiar poster pinned to the billboard as well.

My jaw dropped. The poster for the Asian circus had a picture of the ringmaster on it and that ringmaster had tattoos that had an uncanny resemblance to Gabriel's. When I looked closer, their features were even more strikingly similar, but not identical. He wasn't even Asian. I threw my doubts aside and a sense of victory filled me.

I pulled out my phone and called Veronica. I had found Gabriel's family.


End file.
